l after an examination of the
anatomy and plumage. Still this strong specific resemblance is far from
being a dead uniformity. Aside from the fact, already mentioned, that
the characteristic strain is sometimes given with extraordinary
sweetness and emphasis, there are often to be detected variations of a
more formal character. This is noticeably true of robins. It may almost
be said that no two of them sing alike; while now and then their
vagaries are conspicuous enough to attract general attention. One who
was my neighbor last year interjected into his song a series of four or
five most exact imitations of the peep of a chicken. When I first heard
this performance, I was in company with two friends, both of whom
noticed and laughed at it; and some days afterwards I visited the spot
again, and found the bird still rehearsing the same ridiculous medley. I
conjectured that he had been brought up near a hen-coop, and, moreover,
had been so unfortunate as to lose his father before his notes had
become thoroughly fixed; and then, being compelled to finish his musical
education by himself, had taken a fancy to practice these chicken calls.
This guess may not have been correct. All I can affirm is that he sang
exactly as he might have been expected to do, on that supposition; but
certainly the resemblance seemed too close to be accidental.

The variations of the wood thrush are fully as striking as those of the
robin, and sometimes it is impossible not to feel that the artist is
making a deliberate effort to do something out of the ordinary course,
something better than he has ever done before. Now and then he prefaces
his proper song with many disconnected, extremely _staccato_ notes,
following each other at very distant and unexpected intervals of pitch.
It is this, I conclude, which is meant by some writer (who it is I
cannot now remember) when he criticises the wood thrush for spending too
much time in tuning his instrument. But the fault is the critic's, I
think; to my ear these preliminaries sound rather like the recitative
which goes before the grand _aria_.

Still another musician who delights to take liberties with his score is
the towhee bunting, or chewink. Indeed, he carries the matter so far
that sometimes it seems almost as if he suspected the proximity of some
self-conceited ornithologist, and were determined, if possible, to make
a fool of him. And for my part, being neither self conceited nor an
ornithologis